


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by chase_acow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Winter, cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 15:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets a clue during a snowstorm when Dean gets closer than the average sibling relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

"Dean, seriously. We can't stay out here much longer," Sam said again, catching the edge of his sleeve and bundling it in his fist. He stretched out his arm and wiped away the built up fog on the inside of the window; the Impala's defroster hadn't been working for shit the last twenty miles. Sam's efforts didn't do much, visibility outside was bad and getting worse by the second.

Dean scowled, hunched with his face pushed as close to the glass as he could get. "Well, you see a ditch that looks good, Sammy? Cuz I don't see much else out here," he answered, clenching his hands tighter across the worn steering wheel.

As far as Sam could tell by looking out his window, they could be anywhere from the Texas panhandle to Canada. The landscape was flat; Dean hadn't so much as turned the wheel once in the last twenty minutes except to fight the wind that wouldn't stop blowing. Surprisingly, there weren't any other idiots out on the road either. They could be ten miles or a hundred miles from the nearest motel. Sam glanced back out his side window and for a second the wind stopped.

"Slow down, I think I see something," Sam said, throwing his arm behind him to beat on Dean's arm. He pressed forward enough that he actually did slide his nose against the freezing cold window. "There's definitely something out there. A house maybe."

"You want me to pull over at an unknown house?" Dean asked, but he did slow down from his already low speed. "Think we should just go ask if they have room for a wanted felon and his brother?"

Sam turned back around at the same time a stronger gust of wind made the Impala shudder and pull hard to the right. Dean cursed, pumping the breaks and steering back to where they thought the road was. Sam raised his eyebrows, "Couldn't be any worse than this. C'mon, Dean, I'm cold, and hungry, and I'd rather not die inside this car."

Either Dean finally saw reason or he was still as unable to say 'no' to Sam as he ever was. Sam pointed out the driveway, really just a gap between darker shadows of the ditches on either side, and Dean turned into it, easing the car over the slick surface of the road as if they shared reflexes. Sam tried not to be jealous of the car, had been trying since Dad had handed it over when Dean was twenty, but it was an uphill battle.

The short drive seemed to take forever, and Sam felt vindicated in his decision when the wind and snow redoubled their efforts to knock them off the path. He didn't know how but he was sure that the temperature dropped another five degrees and left him shivering so hard that his teeth chattered together. As Dean pulled up, they could both tell that the house was deserted; no lights or cars, not even a barking dog.

"All right," Dean shifted into park and cut the ignition. "I'm going to go check the house out. If it's okay, I'll signal from the porch. You get the duffels and I'll grab some stuff out of the trunk."

"I should go in too," Sam said turning in the seat. Dean was way too willing to throw himself in harm's way, "What if there's someone in there?"

Dean cocked his head and grinned, "If there's someone in there and she's hot, I might be awhile. Otherwise, I'll ask if they have room for two more."

Rolling his eyes, Sam settled back and flicked his hood up, hunkering down against the blast of cold air that swept in when Dean left. Dean was gone for less than a minute before he popped back out on the porch and waved to Sam. Bracing himself, Sam shouldered his door open, forcing it against the wind and holding it while he clambered out.

Their duffle bags were behind Sam's seat still from that morning when Sam had stuffed them through the window while Dean let the Impala inch along out the parking lot. He grabbed them quickly, wishing for a pair of gloves and passed Dean on his way to the house. The snow drifted up to the steps, already covering Dean's footsteps, and by the time Sam stomped inside his legs were wet almost up to his knees.

Inside the house was probably still freezing, but without the wind, it felt warm by comparison. There wasn't much scattered across the floor, but there was a fireplace and a stack of logs next to it. Sam leaned down and his lip curled when he noticed all the spider webs clinging to the wood, but for a Winchester, starting a fire was like riding a bike. By the time Dean got inside with his second armload of supplies, Sam had a blaze going that almost spilled over the hearth.

"Not bad, kiddo," Dean said, bending over to set their emergency foodstuff box down before he rubbed his hands together. His knees cracked when he squatted down, pawing through their stuff.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Don't call me 'kiddo', you geezer."

"Aw, does poor wittle Sammy got his panties in a bunch?" Dean teased, slinging a can at Sam's head hard enough to take it off if Sam hadn't caught it. "Make yourself useful, bitch."

"Jerk," Sam muttered under his breath, but reached for his pocket knife; it had a can opener on the end. At least it wasn't beans again. The years he'd spent eating real, _good_ food at Stanford had made his stomach less willing to digest the things Dean lived on day after day.

Even though a can of off-brand Spaghetti-Os wasn't exactly an example of prime gourmet, he might be able to sleep without his stomach complaining. How Dean managed to keep from growing a beer belly was one of those great mysteries of the world. Finishing, he swapped Dean for an unopened can and couldn't help sighing when he spotted the label.

"I'll take the beans," Dean offered immediately, stooping as close to the flames as he could get without setting himself on fire. He took an old shovel with a broken-off handle and pushed the metal until it was resting upside down on one of the charring logs. Gingerly, he pushed the can out over the spade where it would heat.

Sam was well aware of how much Dean used to sacrifice for him. When he'd left for college it had almost been as much for Dean as it was for him. Without a little brother to look after, Sam thought Dean might find something better than hunting too. That hadn't really turned out the way Sam had hoped it would, but he had a second chance now and he wasn't going to blow it. He finished opening the can and nudged it up next to the first, "We'll share."

He even produced a bag of peanut M&amp;Ms that they split in between them, and it was only partially so he wouldn't have to smell jalapeno on Dean's breath for the rest of the night. Actually, if the house only had running water and reliable heat, it would have been a nice night spent away from the blaring TVs and fighting families that Sam usually had to listen to. The wind had even dulled down from its roar outside, and the crackling of the fire would have made him sleep even if they hadn't just spent almost ten hours in the car.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, confused when he saw Dean making two piles of blankets. The fire was dying down enough for him to throw more logs on top and then around the sides to bank it for the night. They wouldn't freeze to death, but it wasn't going to be incredibly comfortable.

"I don't what to hear your lip, Sam," Dean growled, hunching his shoulders while he nudged the bigger pile closest to the fire. "You get the extra blanket because there's more of you to cover up."

Sam studied the blankets and then the wind howling past the window. The moon was so bright that the reflection off the snow was enough to see by. He shivered thinking about the people who didn't have a nice abandoned farm house to squat in. Turning back to Dean, he said, "I figured we'd sleep together."

"We were kids the last time we did that."

"We were _warm_ kids."

Dean looked back down where he was smoothing his blanket over the thin sleeping mats they kept above the false bottom in the trunk. He was aiming his blanket further away from the fireplace so Sam could have the better spot. "I dunno, Sam," he said.

"Look, Dean, you can see your breath were you want to sleep," Sam pressed, and then decided to just move Dean's things himself. He pulled the mats around until they were side-by-side and rearranged the blankets to cover both of them. Dean still looked like he was going to argue so Sam added, "I'll even go against physics and let you be the big spoon."

"Being the big spoon is about more than just size, Sammy," Dean grinned, cocking both his head and his hips. "It's a responsibility."

Rolling his eyes where he knew Dean could see, Sam toed off his sneakers and lifted the blankets so he could slide in. Enough time had passed that he only felt a dull ache when he remembered how Jess used to curl up behind him in bed; he was getting better at shutting her away. "Well c'mon then, Mr. Responsible," he said, rolling up his extra hoodie for a pillow. "I'm tired."

Sam closed his eyes, but he was ready to get back up and tackle his brother if Dean tried to move away again. He sighed a little and let his shoulders relax when he felt Dean slide in behind him. Dean squirmed for a few seconds and then turned so his back rested against Sam's.

"Goodnight, Sammy."

"Goodnight."

The fire had died down low, a bed of coals that still gave out enough heat to warm Sam's face. He blinked slowly, his eyes still unfocused and eager to just go back to sleep. He stretched his back and adjusted his head on the makeshift pillow. He held his breath waiting to see if he could figure out what woke him up.

A tremor ran through Dean, shaking his shoulder where it pressed up against Sam's back. After a few seconds, he breathed heavily and finally rolled over to fit his body in tight next to Sam. Dean snaked his hand around Sam's waist, curling it into Sam's outer layer. He sighed and wiggled until he pressed his hips into Sam's ass and buried his nose in Sam's hair. Something jerked in Sam's belly when he felt Dean's warm breath on the back of his neck, but the next second, he was asleep again.

The next day was somewhat less relaxing than that first night had been. Dean woke Sam up with a mostly gentle kick to his ribs and a small tin cup filled with lukewarm, watered down coffee. The wind wasn't strong enough to move the snow like it had the day before, leaving strange drifts that transformed the outside into an intimidating landscape. One-half of the Impala was completely covered while the lee side was bare enough to see a few strands of yellow-dead grass poking up.

Dean put Sam to work shoveling out the driveway while he very carefully brushed away all the snow from his darling car. By the end of the day, Sam was sore, tired, and incredibly not in the mood for Dean to badger him into a game of poker. The rest of his temper snapped when Dean won game after game, and Sam just _knew_ Dean was cheating even if he couldn't prove it.

"Aw, don't be a sore loser, Sam," Dean teased, shuffling the cards quickly and deftly spinning the cut deck between his fingers. "I already took all your fake money, but you could start giving me clothing next."

Sam kept a straight face through Dean's leer that was more comical than smarmy. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed that any of Dean's lines actually worked. Dean's pretty face must go a long way for girls that he would only see for one night. Sam pitied them sometimes, but mostly he was just glad to have his brother back – personality warts and all.

"Pass," Sam said through his yawn. It had been a long day, and since no more snow had fallen, they were betting that the roads would get cleared sometime the next day. "I think I'm just gonna lie down."

Dean puttered around for a while longer, but quicker than Sam expected, he kicked off his boots and lifted the blankets letting in a draft of cold air. Sam was almost asleep, when Dean moved, jabbing his elbow into Sam's side. Sighing, Sam turned his head in Dean's direction and rubbed his forehead into the bunched hood of his sweatshirt. He was just at that place where it felt like his brain was disconnecting, drifting away and then Dean fidgeted jolting Sam awake.

"I swear to God, Dean," Sam grunted, holding the blanket so he wouldn't tug it when he flopped over to his side. "Stop moving."

"Yeah, because this is the most comfortable place I've ever slept," Dean grumbled, wigging again until he was on his back with his leg pushed against Sam's calf.

Sam paused, twenty years of experience telling him to wait for it. He almost went against his better judgement and decided to relax when Dean started moving his feet and then twitched up to his shoulders. Growling, Sam turned and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling until Dean spooned up behind him and instantly settled down.

"Gee, Sammy, I love it when you get all alpha on me," Dean said, his teasing falling a little flat as he brushed his hand up against Sam's stomach. On his own, he scooted forward until they were pressed together from shoulders to knees.

"Love it enough to go to sleep," Sam mumbled, squeezing Dean's wrist once before he let go to let his hand rest higher up on Dean's arm. It felt good to be pressed up next to someone; he'd gotten used to being physically affectionate through college, and going mostly cold turkey was harder than he'd thought. That it was Dean was even better. No one knew him like Dean. It was probably the best night's sleep that he'd had in a long time, despite sleeping on the floor.

Sam woke to motion. It wasn't anything that made him jerk to consciousness, but enough to make him crack his eyes open despite the fact that dawn was still just a gleam in the universe's eye. Dean's arm was still tight around Sam's midsection, but he tightened his grip on Sam's hoodie and pulled a little every other heartbeat. Still muddled with sleep, it took Sam another minute to realize that Dean's hips were grinding into his ass.

Embarrassment spiked through Sam's body, but the heat quickly turned inward. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that Dean's dick was hard where he rubbed forward. Like a deer caught in headlights, Sam held perfectly still unable to decide between pulling away and pushing Dean back. It wasn't _bad_, Dean wasn't hurting him or anything, but his mind skittered away the second he wondered what it would feel like without so many layers between them.

"_Sammy_," Dean mumbled, stretching up so he could brush his cheek over Sam's hair. He continued speaking, but it was too low for Sam to understand.

It was easier to understand when Dean tightened his grip, hugging Sam so he would have had to work to break free. Dean's hips sped up at the same time, rubbing harder and dragging against Sam's ass. His thighs were solid behind Sam, and when Sam lifted one leg, Dean instantly slotted his leg in. That changed the angle just enough that Dean's cock grinded right into the middle, following the groove between Sam's asscheeks.

Sam was hard; he could feel his dick thickening against his leg. Somehow his jeans had twisted while he slept cutting into his hips. The inseam pressed painfully against his dick, keeping him from finding the good kind of friction. He tried to move to relieve the pressure, but Dean whined and held him closer. With a sigh, Sam relaxed back against Dean's body, uncomfortably willing to stay passive in whatever the hell was going on.

If Dean woke up and realized that Sam had been awake throughout the entire … _whatever_, Sam would be lucky if Dean would still hand him weapons without a ten foot pole. He wouldn't be able to stand that, even as used to being a social outcast as Sam was; Dean had never turned away from him not even when he deserved it. Sam bit his lip and stayed quiet.

Behind him, Dean went tense and Sam had to concentrate on breathing slow and deep. His racing heartbeat would have given him away, but all the layers they were wearing would keep him safe. Dean rubbed forward again, then sighed heavily and rolled away. It was all Sam could do to keep from turning with Dean and seeking some relief. Dean was up and gone though, just a rapidly cooling spot where he had just been.

"Jesus Christ," Dean cursed, mumbling softly as he tip-toed across the room.

Squeaky hinges announced the door opening and shutting, but Sam still counted to a slow twenty waiting for Dean to come back inside. At twenty-one, Sam rolled over to his back and palmed his dick, pressing heavily and biting the inside of his cheek. He was used to abnormal, but this was a line that he'd never thought about crossing before.

Two minutes later, Dean kicked the door open, shouting, "Up and at 'em, princess! The roads are clear and somewhere there's a shower with your name on it."

Sam groaned, thankful for baggy jeans as he helped gather up their belongings.

 

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A cloud of steam escaped the bathroom when Sam opened the door after his shower. The heat made his sleeping pants cling to his legs. He ruffled the towel through his hair one more time and then tossed it under the sink where he wouldn't trip on it if he had to get up in the middle of the night. Dean sprawled out on the bed closest to the door puzzling over facts from their latest case. Pictures and newspapers spread out in front on him in a method only another Winchester could admire, and he held his chin on his hand while he looked back and forth.

"This is annoying," Dean said without looking back. He kicked one foot up in the air, swinging it around on his ankle while he thought out loud. In that second, it was just like studying with Jess. "I know the connection is here, but I can't fucking see it. C'mere and you try it."

Dean had taken his shower earlier when Sam had gone out for dinner and hadn't bothered to get dressed again. He was just wearing a pair of black boxer-briefs and a t-shirt so worn and soft, Sam would swear he could see right through it. Normally, Sam wouldn't have cared one way or another, but it had been a little over a week since they'd been stuck out in that snowstorm, and he'd been thinking about Dean more and more.

The idea came like quicksilver, and before Sam had a chance to talk himself out of it, he followed his instinct. The bed dipped under his hands and knees, but not too much since Dean already carved out a little hollow in the bed's ancient springs. He bracketed Dean's body, fitting his legs on the outside of Dean's but his arms inside Dean's elbows. Before Dean could do more than whip his head around, Sam dropped his weight straight on Dean's back, ready to shift in case Dean tried to buck him off.

Instead, Dean froze and rolled his eyes back to fix Sam with a glare, "What the hell you think you're doing?"

"You said you were close to finding the answer, right?" Sam asked, waiting for Dean's nod before he continued, "So I figured I should look at it from the same angle or I might miss something."

Dean held still a while longer. Sam could feel every breath Dean took, and every twitch of muscles. He just smiled blandly until Dean finally twisted back to look at the clippings. Sam shifted, resting his chin on Dean's shoulder while his eyes moved, roving for the pattern that would tie the victims together and give them a place to start looking.

His dick hit at Dean's upper thigh; he'd been pleasantly half-hard since he'd jerked off in the shower. Dean had to feel it. With every breath they both took, their bodies moved; Sam rubbed down and Dean's ass pushed up into Sam's lower belly. Dean smelled like gun oil and leather even under the bland motel soap, and his hair was soft against Sam without any of Dean's normal product in it.

"Sam?" Dean asked, more tentative than Sam had ever heard him before.

"Shhh. I think I've almost got it," Sam said, because even though the only thing he really wanted to think about was Dean's body underneath him, he could see that Dean was right. The answer was right in front of them. Sam moved a little higher up Dean's back and if he hadn't been listening for it, he might have missed the small hitch in his brother's breath. "Look."

Reaching around Dean's shoulder, Sam picked up a picture of the second victim, Mrs. Jordon. The movement brought his dick right in line with Dean's ass and neither one of them tried to cover their twin hisses. Clearing his throat, Sam pressed down with his hips harder and moved the picture over next to a different news story. He might have shifted a little more than necessary, taking gratuitous enjoyment from being on top for once, but Dean would never know.

"See, that article says that Mr. Hicks taught a Tai Chi class, and this one says that Mr. and Mrs. Alvarez had a kid in an indoor soccer little league," Sam said, pushing his body against Dean while he pointed to the relevant papers. Then he tapped on the picture and leaned down close enough that his stubble rasped against Dean's. "Now look at the background. Climbing equipment. What if they all belonged to the same gym and there's something in there targeting them?"

"Good job, Sammy," Dean rasped, his voice even lower than normal, and heat bouncing off his face. He cautiously turned his head, brushing his forehead across Sam's temple. Twisting slightly at the hips, he moved against Sam's body adding to the friction. "I knew there was a reason I was keeping you around."

Sam flexed his chest muscles against Dean's back, and his toes curled with the pleasure of touching someone with intent. Something inside him crowed at Dean's shivering, since it definitely wasn't from the cold this time. He rolled his hips and teased, "You mean for something besides my body?"

"S-sam," Dean stuttered, grabbing the bedspread in both fists so that the paper went flying everywhere. He arched up, wiggling so that he was doing as much work sliding their bodies together as Sam was. "Don't stop."

"Wasn't planning on it," Sam answered, wrapping his arm around Dean's chest to get better leverage. Dean was so hot beneath him; Sam felt feverish, almost drunk on the fact Dean was letting him do this, _wanted_ him to do this. He grabbed Dean's hip with his other hand and held Dean still while he set up a rhythm, rolling his hips hard into Dean's muscle.

It only took a few more minutes, listening to Dean panting, feeling him wiggling, and imaging the _next_ time, for Sam to completely lose his mind and come hard from rubbing against his brother's ass. He dug his chin into the muscles on Dean's shoulder, closing his eyes while he held his breath and pushed his toes into the mattress. He only let his weight rest for a second before he rolled off to the side, already regretting losing a clean pair of boxers even if it was incredibly enjoyable. The room gained a sudden awkwardness that probably should have been there before he got his rocks off.

Dean's head fell to the mattress, rustling a single newspaper article still in place. He stirred a little while Sam opened his bag to find more clean clothes, "What was that, Sam?"

"I dunno, just getting even from last week?" Sam answered and asked at the same time. He wasn't going to label whatever it was they were doing before Dean did. He didn't want to listen to the teasing from now until the end of time from Dean if he tried to call this, this thing a relationship if it wasn't.

"'Getting even'," Dean snorted and rolled off the bed opposite from Sam, "of course."

Sam didn't think anything about it, he knew he had another pair of pants somewhere, until he heard the bathroom door shut and the shower start. Scowling, he stripped off in the room and cleaned himself off with the bottom of his dirty pants. He got into bed, but it wasn't the kind of restful sleep he expected after such an amazing orgasm.

 

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Two surprise snowstorms in two weeks. Sam blamed El Nino.

"No," Dean said, pulling off the road into a short driveway. Already the Impala pushed snow aside from the front bumper, acting like a very poor snowplow, "Al Gore invented global warming."

"That was the internet," Sam corrected, absently drawing his finger through the condensation on his window. Nothing had changed between him and Dean since he'd rubbed off on top of Dean. Nothing. No touching, no extra teasing, no awkwardness. The next morning just dawned the same as always, but Sam watched Dean with new eyes. Sam felt restless, waiting for something that he didn't even know what.

This storm brought in wet snow, and a lot of it. They weren't going to be going anywhere anytime soon, but at least this house wasn't an abandoned shack. It was probably used as a cabin retreat, stocked with a good variety of cold weather gear and food with a wood stove on the other end from the fireplace. There were enough lanterns that even without power, they would be able to see. It wouldn't be a bad place to stay for a week. Dean pulled the sofa bed out and Sam didn't even have to encourage him to pile all the blankets on top of it.

Sam kept looking out the window, but he didn't realize why until he saw the sky darken above the still falling snow and it clicked into place. Of course, as eager as he was to go to bed, Dean seemed equally as resistant. It was after midnight when Sam gave up and crawled under the blankets, and even later when he felt the bed dip again with Dean's weight.

"Hey," Sam mumbled. The middle support bar jabbed him through the mattress, and he turned to take the pressure off his right hip. Dean was a warm, safe presence, and Sam didn't think twice about slipping his arm over Dean's chest and moving closer.

"Don't, Sam," Dean said quietly, even as he touched Sam with care and softness, "don't mess with me anymore."

"I wasn't messing," Sam insisted, though he was tired enough that he didn't open his eyes. Again, he pressed closer until his nose bumped under Dean's jaw. Sighing heavily, Sam lifted his knee over Dean's leg and without thought pressed a kiss over Dean's pulse.

Dean pulled up on Sam's thigh, twisting until they were pressed together front to front. It was the first time Sam had ever felt another man's dick pressed close to his, and an excited jolt spread through the stomach, jerking his hips forward. The hard panes of Dean's chest could have been more different from Jess' curves, but were welcome anyway. Dean's heart beat the same, he said Sam's name the same, and his closeness had always meant more than anyone else alive.

"Sammy?"

"Shhh, Dean, I got you," Sam promised, sleepy warmth and slow burning pleasure licked up his spine and made him desperate to share. He palmed Dean's cock and licked up the column of Dean's neck. "Let me kiss you. Let me, let me."

Tipping his chin down, Dean licked his lips, the tip of his tongue brushed against Sam's bottom lip. He opened up slowly, meeting Sam halfway with a small noise almost choked off in this throat. Dean's fingers clutched Sam, holding him tightly while Dean rubbed against Sam's hand.

It might have been the first time that they came together, but Sam was going to make sure it wasn't their last.


End file.
